


The Sailing

by Pamela Rose (pamela_rose)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamela_rose/pseuds/Pamela%20Rose
Summary: After Gary Mitchell dies, Kirk needs a new best friend.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	The Sailing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Nexus 5 (1980)

Kirk was simply sitting, staring at the pattern of·the room divider, deep in his own maze of thoughts when the intercom called his attention. He leaned over and flipped the switch.

“Kirk here."

"Communications from Starbase 11, Sir."

"Put it through down here, Lieutenant."

The first message was from base maintenance assigning a repair dock for the Enterprise. The next was official permission for the majority of the crew to take·shore leave while the ship was·under repair. The third tape was a personal message from Commodore Mendez to Kirk. Jose said he was welcome to use his boat on New Haiti.

He stopped the tape before it finished and sat back tiredly in his chair. Great . . . just great. He covered his eyes with his hand and tried to still the shaking inside him. The pain hit him like a reopened wound--not that it had yet had time to heal. Had it only been two weeks? My god, two weeks since--

He broke off the thought, trying to concentrate on something else, but it wouldn’t leave him alone.

How long had he tried to talk Gary into going sailing with him? It simply wasn’t Mitchell’s idea of how to spend a shore leave. He would rather be in a smoke filled, dim cabaret, with several strong drinks inside him (bought by someone else, of course), one on the table in front of him, and a beautiful woman on each arm. He’d leave the fresh sea air and nature bit to Jim, thank you. But Kirk had finally convinced him to give it a try. (On the condition he brought along a generous supply of saurian brandy.) "Next·shore leave for sure, Jim."

. . . next shore leave . . . Kirk put his arms on the desk and buried his face in them; the emptiness in the pit of his stomach·feeling colder than ever. . . oh Gary . . .

The sound of his door buzzer almost made him jump. He straightened, pulling himself together hastily. "Come "

Spock entered and stopped in front of the·desk. He handed a report across it to the Captain. "Mr. Scott estimates the repair time will take no less than three weeks, Captain."

Kirk leafed through the report listlessly. "That long?"

"There was extensive damage to the wiring and relay systems when we contacted the barrier, Sir. It is a time consuming job to replace them. Many of the back-up systems are gone completely."

Chock another one up to that damn forcefield, Kirk thought bitterly. It almost killed my ship as well as my best--

He tossed report down on the desk. "Very well, Mr. Spock. I’m authorizing shore leave while the ship’s being repaired. Notify the personnel officer. New Haiti is included in leave privileges as well as the Starbase.”

"Yes, Sir.” Spock turned to leave.

Kirk stopped him. "Spock, see that you take leave this time. In the six months I’ve been in command you’ve barely stepped off the ship except for shore parties. These last few weeks haven’t been easy on you either."

Spock started to protest but decided against it. Kirk’s depression was like a leaden weight in the atmosphere of the room. Spock hesitated, wanting to say something to lift that strained, wooden look off his captain’s face. The look that had been·there since Mitchell’s death. But he had already offered his regrets; to say more would be superfluous, completely unnecessary. Yet . . .

"Captain, you are taking leave also, are you not?" Spock asked, pushing back the feeling he was invading Kirk’s privacy.

"No." Kirk paused and considered it for a second. Why not? Maybe if he could get away for a while and think this out; come to some kind of understanding of what had happened, maybe he could accept Gary’s death--and his own part of it. He certainly wouldn’t be of any use on the Enterprise. A captain on a ship in dry dock was not only useless, he was often in the way. She would be Scotty’s baby for a while. He made up his mind suddenly. “Yes, I think I will, Mr. Spock. A few days, anyway."

Spock nodded, feeling more at ease. Perhaps the relaxation would help the Captain return to normal.

Spock left Kirk went to his bookshelf. He pulled out a well-worn volume of poetry. It fell open automatically to a much read page. "I must go down to the sea again . . ."

* * *

Spock was quite puzzled by Dr. Piper’s request to speak to him privately. He didn’t know Piper very well. He had only been on the Enterprise since Dr. Boyce left, a few weeks after Captain Pike’s promotion. Spock knew Piper was retiring when they reached Starbase 11. Why would the doctor wish to speak to him privately?

However, Spock was never one to indulge in idle speculation, so he agreed to meet him in the Doctor’s office.

At first the Doctor didn’t seem to know how to begin. He fidgeted with items on his desk and avoided Spock’s eyes.

“Doctor, I believe you said you had something to discuss with me?" Spock prompted.

Reluctantly Piper met Spock’s eyes. The Vulcan was hard to get through to in the best of times, and he wasn’t at all certain how he would react to what he had to say. But it was worth a try. "It’s about the Captain. He’s taking Gary’s death hard."

"I am aware of that."

"He blames himself."

Spock sighed. "The Captain knows there was no alternative. If Lt. Commander Mitchell had lived, the Enterprise might have been destroyed, and all aboard her would most certainly be dead. I fail to see why the Captain should feel guilt. He made the only decision possible."

"Because he’s Human and Gary was his best friend! It may be difficult for you to understand, Mr. Spock, but grief for a friend’s death is natural and the guilt the Captain is feeling is also natural. Whatever the circumstances or necessity for Gary’s death, Kirk was still the one who killed him. He’s never going to forget that."

Spock was silent. If Humans wished to believe he, as a Vulcan, had no conception of grief or friendship, that was their prerogative. He would not disillusion them. It was far easier to let them believe he had no emotions than that he·was controlling them. They didn’t understand control--they never could. Or what it cost him.

Piper waited a moment until he realized spook was not going to reply, then he continued, "I’ve been on one Starship or another for over twenty years. The Enterprise will be my last. I’d like to know I’m·doing some good before I leave her. In twenty years I don’t think I’ve ever served under a captain with more promise than Jim Kirk. He’s got everything it takes to make one hell of a commander; intelligence, decision, charm, charisma, intuition. But he’s also got the other side of the coin--an over-developed sense of responsibility. He’s too quick to take all the blame and guilt on his own head. I’ve seen that destroy more than one starship captain. I’d hate to see it happen to Kirk . He’s got something special, but the way he’s been going these last couple of weeks, he’s going to lose lt. It’s understandable; Gary was his best friend. That would be a hard thing for any man to take, especially a man like Kirk. He’s got to get some kind of perspective·on this thing or it’s going to eat him up inside and he may come to the point he·can’t be an effective captain.”

"I·fail to see what you wish me to do," Spock said stiffly.

Piper stared at·him. "Don’t you know what a·first officer is for, Mr. Spock?”

Spock began to quote the Starfleet definition of job responsibility, but Piper cut him off impatiently.

"A first officer’s most important duty is to keep his captain sane and functional.”

Protest rose to his lips but Piper waved him off again. "I know the regulations and duties as well as you, young man. I’ve been in space a long time, I know what I’m talking about. A captain’s job is hell. Every minute of every day he knows there are over four hundred lives in his hands, not to mention the billions or lives it is the ship’s responsibility·to protect. Decisions, crisises, life and death situations. He’s a god on this ship, and he’d better damn well know it. It’s enough to break any man. It does break a lot of them before it’s over. So where’s he supposed to turn when it gets too much? There’s only one person on the entire ship that he dare turn to. That’s you, mister. There are a lot of things even the ship’s surgeon can’t know, but you need to know, cause you’re next in line to take that responsibility. It’s the only thing he has to rely on in the end, that you will be there if he can’t handle it. That’s what keeps him sane."

Piper wondered briefly if he was getting anything past those dark, brooding eyes·into·that computer-like brain. But he continued, hoping something he said was sinking in.

"You’ve got to be more than a first officer, Mr. Spock. You’ve got to be friend, brother, confessor . . . everything wrapped up in one. Or else Kirk’s not going to be the Captain I know he has it in him to be, and you’re not going to be the First Officer l know you can be. I know, since you are Vulcan, these things don’t come easy to you, but you chose Starfleet. It’s up to you to do what a Human in your place would do.” Piper mentally crossed his fingers on the lie. Most Humans wouldn’t do any more than Spock was doing now--but telling him that wouldn’t help either Kirk or Spock.

Spock hesitated. "What would you have me do, Doctor?”

Piper let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding. This was better than he had hoped for. At least the Vulcan was willing to listen.

"Kirk needs a friend now. He just lost his best one at his own hands. He needs to talk about it; let some of the guilt out. Share that sense of responsibility that’s become a little too much for him to handle alone right now. If he’s going to function as Captain, he’s going to have to accept that fact that he’s not perfect, but that he has to go right on making the decisions as if he were. And he’s got to know that you are going to back him up on those decisions. This is the first time Kirk has had to make a choice that affected him this deeply. He doesn’t need you to tell him it was the right one--he knows that. He just needs someone to understand what it cost him and maybe share some of the pain."

"How am I to do that?"

Piper sat up eagerly, pleased at the thoughtful look on Spock’s face. "He’s going on shore leave to New Haiti. Go with him. Get to know him better; let him know you--" He broke off at the sudden stiffening of Spock’s posture. So that was the problem, huh? The Vulcan didn’t want anyone too close. Understandable, Piper thought, but it’s a mistake for him to cut himself off from people so completely. So he had been right all along; they both needed this badly. Spock as much or more than Kirk. He just hoped it would work, and that the stereotype of Vulcans was as faulty as most stereotypes.

He waited until Spock’s eyes met his. "I know Kirk has already tried to be friends with you."

"How are you aware of that?" Spock asked before he could bite back the words.

"It’s my job as Chief Medical Officer to know what’s going on. I’m responsible for the crew’s mental health as well as their physical, remember? Especially the command personnel. Kirk’s asked you to play chess quite a few times, hasn’t he?"

Spock nodded warily, wondering what Piper was leading to.

"Don’t you think if he really just wanted to play chess he would have asked Gary or someone else? It was his way of trying to connect, to get to know you without pushing. He wants to be your friend Spock."

Once again, Spock had no answer, but his mind was flashing back to scenes of Kirk at the chess board. Teasing smile, twinkling hazel eyes; intense and concentrating; light and uncaring; frustrated and defeated; softly triumphant.

Piper broke into his thoughts, "I’ve also seen what Mitchell did to try to stop it. " Piper met his surprised gaze steadily. "You didn’t like Gary, and Gary didn’t like you. What’s more, Gary didn’t like you getting close to Kirk. He broke in every chance he got. That was the way he was--he didn’t like competition.”

Spock waited for an explanation, but it wasn’t forthcoming.

Piper had apparently had his say and was finished. The rest was up to Spock.

* * *

Spock thought about the Doctor’s words a great deal in the next few days. If he were honest with himself, he couldn’t deny that he had been drawn to Kirk from the first. Even he had felt the effect of the charm in that smile; the open friendliness in those bright, hazel eyes. If Kirk desired it to, his personality could hit with the force of a phaser stun. A lot of it was calculated, Spock knew that, too, but there was also a genuine warmth behind the charismatic façade.

He had cared very much for Captain Pike, but Pike had always been something of a father-figure to Spock. A much needed one since Sarek had shut him off with cold silence. But Kirk was different, very different from Christopher Pike. At first Spock had not been able to recognize the emotions he felt toward Kirk. True, since Kirk was his commanding officer, he felt loyalty and respect, but he also, quite unexpectantly, felt comfortable around him. He had an almost subconscious impression that if he did let his control slip around Kirk, he would not take advantage of it.

Friendship? An elusive, undefinable, unVulcan concept. On Vulcan an individual was preferred or not preferred for his or her, intellectual stimulation and compatibility of interests, but the word “friend" also connoted the opposite word "enemy", and that was unthinkable. They were emotional terms and emotions were controlled.

Still, he enjoyed being with Kirk. He gave him the intellectual challenge and the acceptance he craved. It also true that too often Mitchell had been apt to interrupt a conversation or game of chess to dare Kirk to a free-fall match or a drink of (probably un-tariffed) liquor. And, too often, Kirk feeling subconscious priorities of a long standing friendship, had made his apologies and left, leaving Spock feeling irritated at Mitchell--never at Kirk, who seemed genuinely sorry to leave, and always invited Spock to come along.

Of course, Spock never did. Not with Mitchell there.

Mitchell was always in the background; whispering obscene Vulcan jokes to crewmen, knowing full well that Spock’s hearing could easily pick them up. Making snide remarks about CPU’s with legs with eyes rolled meaningfully toward Spock and laughing at the Captain’s irritation at all of it.

No, Spock had not liked Mitchell. He was overbearing, crude, and a manipulator. He used everything and everyone that came his way to further his own ends--even the Captain. Kirk never let Mitchell really get away with anything; he was too good a captain for that. Mitchell was exceptionally competent as navigator or he would never have been on the Enterprise in the first place. Kirk made damn sure he did his job and did it well. But personally, and when not on duty, Kirk let Mitchell get away with almost anything. He made no attempt to stop him romancing half the female personnel, or telling rude jokes, or even running a small bookie operation. As long as nothing interfered with the smooth efficiency of the ship, Kirk closed his eyes to petty infringement of the rules. And Mitchell played on their friendship for everything it worth--a great deal to Kirk, and (to Spock’s biased observation) next to nothing to Mitchell.

Mitchell was dead now, however, and Kirk was in despondent because of it. Spock had wondered in the last couple of weeks if Mitchell’s latent esper abilities hadn’t had something to do with the reason he had disliked him so intensely. Had some of his "aura" been visible to his own telepathic mind? True, his own ability was limited as primarily a touch-telepath, but considering Mitchell’s now obvious ESP, was it possible he had gotten a glimpse of the real Gary Mitchell long before they had broached the forcefield? It was an academic question. It hardly mattered now.

What did matter was how his death was changing a quick, decisive, self-assured captain into a quiet, subdued, almost apathetic man. Spock didn’t like the change, and as they drew nearer to Starbase 11,·it grew more pronounced. Spock was certain Kirk had the strength of will to pull himself out of this depression--if he wanted to. But Spock began more convinced that Dr. Piper was correct to be concerned.

It was two days after they had docked at Starbase 11 and the repairs on the Enterprise bad begun, before Spock was able to leave his own computer adjustments to take shore leave himself. He checked the Captain’s whereabouts and discovered he had taken a shuttle to New Haiti. Spock did the same. Once there, it took several more hours before he traced Kirk down. It was just a little after planet dawn when Spock went to seek his Captain.

New Haiti was only a few shuttle hours from Starbase 11. By being so close in proximity to the Starbase, it had become an important space port in its own right. It had quickly became popular for shore leave, and many officers stationed in the area had vacation homes there. It was an ocean planet, with only a few large islands and numerous small ones. The planet had a very boisterous volcanic youth, and some of these were still active. The climate on three-fourths of its surface area was tropical and pleasant. The terrain was rough and mountainous, but beaches were abundant and colorful—white, pink and black, and the water very clear. The only real agriculture was New Haiti coffee and tea; both rare and expensive items. All in all, it was an extremely attractive planet. Spock walked quickly to the docks, hoping Kirk had not departed.

He paused at the sight of the ocean. The humidity in the air irritated him somewhat, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the sight of the sea.

Large bodies of water made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. There was a strange, almost instinctive urge to conserve it all--illogical, but Vulcan deserts were deep within him.

He pushed back the uneasiness and looked down the dock. 24…26…30. There it was. He walked down the pier, feeling more uncomfortable with each step. This might be a bit awkward.

To his relief--and chagrin--the boat was still there, and so was Kirk. He was busy coiling a rope at the bow. Spock halted and watched him for a moment, uncertain how to approach him.

Kirk was bare to the waist; dressed only in white cotton pants riding low on his hips, cut off several inches above the knee, and a pair of white canvas shoes. The sun, in just two days, had darkened his skin to bronze, and his sun lightened hair was tossed in disarray by the sea wind.

Kirk glanced up and caught sight of Spock. He froze, then dropped the rope and leaped agilely off the boat to the dock.

"Spock! Anything wrong?"

"No, Sir. I thought you would like to discuss the alterations to the Enterprise. Some of the warp drive capabilities have been improved--" He broke off as he faced Kirk’s suspicious look.

"You know Scotty’s in charge of all that."

"Yes, Sir.” Spock clasped hands behind his back, feeling slightly nervous and definitely out of line.

Kirk continued, staring at him accusingly, “So what brings you here?”

Spock wasn’t sure what to answer. The truth would hardly please the Captain. But Kirk was very quick on the uptake.

"Piper sent you here, didn’t he? He thinks I’m cracking up," Kirk said bitterly. "I don’t need a nursemaid, Mr. Spock."

"I do not believe I am qualified as a nursemaid," Spock said truthfully. But that still did not explain his presence and they both knew it.

"You are going sailing, Captain?" Spock asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yes. Jose Mendez let me borrow his boat. I’m sailing over to Altaya. Shouldn’t take more than four or five days there and back."

"Alone?"

Kirk looked at him sharply. "Of course alone. Why not?"

Spock searched his mind quickly for the right words. "Won’t you require a first mate?"

Kirk stared at him in surprise. Was it possible that Spock was asking to go with him? It didn’t seem likely, but what else could he mean? Kirk considered it for a moment. He had thought he wanted to be alone, but it would be nice to have someone to share it with since Gary--

"Are you applying for the position, mister?" he asked abruptly.

A little embarrassed, Spock wasn’t certain how to respond.

“Are you are taking applications, Sir?"

Kirk grinned. "What are your qualifications?"

Spock hesitated. "I’ve been first officer on a starship."

Kirk tried to maintain a straight face. "So what? That’s kid stuff. This is the sea, mister. Have you ever sailed before?"

"The opportunity has never arisen." In spite of himself, Spock could not help but fall in with Kirk’s teasing mood and was grateful to see it surfacing in the Captain again. "I do learn rather quickly, however."

Kirk laughed--the first, time Spock had heard him laugh in over three weeks. It sounded very good. Then Kirk became serious. "Do you really want to go with me, Spock?"

Spock paused only a second. "Yes, Sir. If you would not consider it an intrusion.”

Kirk smiled. "I would welcome the company. Besides, I’ve become accustomed to having someone to order a round."

Spock resisted the urge to smile, contenting himself with raising an expressive eyebrow. Kirk laughed again. It was almost like music. This is illogical, Spock thought, that I should feel this pleased he wishes me with him. Completely illogical. But he made no attempt to suppress the feeling.

"Come aboard, Mr. Spock," Kirk said brightly.

Spock noted the name across the stern: the STARWIND. Appropriate, he thought. He felt the boat rock slightly when he stepped a board, and quickly quelled the nausea he felt. This was ridiculous; he had been in free fall often enough and had never felt ill, why now?

He looked out at the ocean. Water. So very much water.

He took a. deep breath and was immediately sorry. Salt and moisture penetrated his unaccustomed lungs. Mentally he forced his body to accept the change, and his stomach to calm.

Kirk uncleated the mooring ropes and Spock helped him to push the boat off. When they were out far enough, Kirk instructed him which ropes to pull to set the sails. The wind caught the canvas in a white glitter and he felt the ship leap ahead. Kirk was holding what Spock supposed was the tiller, directing the boat out of the cove to the open sea. Although the rocking of the boat increased as they began to skim over the waves, Spock now had his stomach under control. He made his way back gingerly to Kirk’s side.

The expression on the Captain’s face was sheer pleasure as the sea breeze blew his sandy hair, off his forehead. He took a deep, satisfied breath and smiled at Spock. "Great, isn’t it?"

Spock declined to comment. Kirk looked up at the sails and around the boat critically. “She seems a little awkward," he said, frowning. "The balance is off somewhere."

Spock followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. "How do you know, Captain?"

Kirk shrugged. "I don’t know, I just feel it. She’s not handling well. Jose just bought her a couple of months ago. I don’t think he’s had the chance to sail her much or he would have noticed it and warned me. It might give us some trouble."

Spock felt unusually ignorant, and none too happy about the fact. He was still much too conscious of the tons of water beneath and surrounding them. It felt unnatural, although, of course he knew on this planet it natural.

He noticed that the land was getting rather far away. "When will we reach this island Altaya, Captain?"

"Oh, two, maybe three days, depending on the wind."

Spock repressed a swallow. "It seems a particularly inefficient means of propulsion."

Kirk grinned. "It’s where it all began, Spock--at least on Earth. The Phoenicians, the Greeks. All they had was the wind and the stars. Beginnings, that’s what this is. Going back to basics. It clears the head sometimes. It’s good to get away from the machines occasionally."

"The sea is said to be the origin of all life," Spock remarked grudgingly, "even on Vulcan. But l hardly see how--"

"‘Where’s your sense of adventure, Spock?. Just look at it! The sea! Just like Earth."

"Actually the saline content of this ocean is somewhat less than--"

Kirk’s sour look effectively silenced Spock’s statistics. Kirk hummed a sea chantey to himself. A while later Spock forlornly watched the last glimpse of solid land slip from sight. He forcefully subdued a growing paranoia.

"I think," Kirk said dreamily, "if I had been born four or five centuries ago, I would have been a pirate."

"A pirate?" Spock asked, confused. "A criminal?"

"Well not exactly. More like Drake or John Paul Jones. For Queen and country. Would have been fun," he mused.

"Fun? I hardly think--"

"Or captain of a clipper ship,” Kirk broke in, eyes bright. "Yes, that’s what I would’ve liked." He turned to Spock. "Have you ever seen a picture of the Flying Cloud?"

"No," Spock said doubtfully, “I do not believe so.”

"She was beautiful, Spock. Miles of white sails; clean lines. She was so fast--"

"Fast?"

"Not by today’s standards, of course, but then she was the fastest thing on the seas. Such a beautiful lady."

Spock noted Kirk’s eyes had turned almost as blue-green as the sea; a sure sign he was contented and happy. Spock sat back against the mast feeling relaxed and almost happy himself.

"I would have loved to have been the captain of such a ship. Can you imagine?"

"You have the Enterprise,” Spock reminded him sharply.

The dreamy look remained in the hazel eyes--now almost pure green. "Yes, and she’s a lovely lady, too. Beautiful as a clipper ship " He smiled. "And Scotty makes sure she’s fast."

Without warning, Kirk’s inner wind shifted. Spock watched in amazement as the blue-green shade of his eyes swiftly faded to a cloudy grey.

"It’s more complicated now," Kirk said bitterly. "Nothing’s quite so simple anymore."

"It was never simple," Spock said quietly, watching him. "The passage of time has merely made it seem so. Even then a Captain was responsible for the lives of his crew."

"And for their deaths," Kirk concluded angrily. "But at least he was able to understand them then. How can anyone understand what happened to Gary? Or why."

There was no possible answer to either question, so Spock remained silent. So did Kirk; his expression closed and stony. Spock knew he had dropped back into his depression, and the vivid contrast between the bright-eyed, enthusiastic young captain of a few moments ago and the hard-jawed silence was painful to observe. The Vulcan wanted to do something to take him back to the contentment Kirk had felt such a short time before, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

Spock sighed mentally and leaned back against the mast again. Piper would not be pleased with the way he was handling this. He’d done nothing but remind the Captain of the Enterprise of the weight of his responsibilities. Not exactly what Kirk needed right now. The good Doctor had obviously made a poor choice of emissary.

He looked out over the ocean; again forcefully reminded of the volume of water surrounding him. He turned his attention to adjusting his body to the humidity and salt in the air, and controlling the unsteady condition of his stomach. He was mildly surprised to find that after a while he was enjoying the even rolling motion of the boat. It was even rather soothing. He relaxed, reveling in the warm feel of the sun on his face. He knew it was hot by Human standards, but he found it rather like a cool day on Vulcan after the seasonal monsoon. Pleasant, even refreshing.

For several hours they sailed at a good pace. Kirk remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. But the withdrawn look on his face gradually faded, and he also began to enjoy the feel of the wind and sun. A large school of fish passed them, chattering happily. Spock took a mental note to research the species when he returned to the Enterprise. They made a quite pleasant sound, nearly musical in some respects. His knowledge of marine life on New Haiti was extremely limited. He had never had any reason to be interested before, but it was really quite fascinating. Especially when a porpoise-like creature stuck its head up a few meters from the boat and whistled at them. It even drew a smile from the introspective Kirk.

Toward noon the wind began to die. The sails drooped and became almost limp. Kirk lowered the sails, dropped the anchor, and raised the rudder, then stretched. "Looks like we’ve lost the wind for now," he said. "It will probably be evening before it picks up " He looked around as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Hot. I think I’ll take a swim. Want to join me?"

Spock glance at the glass-calm water. He had never been fond of swimming. If it had not been a requirement for Starfleet cadets, he would probably never have learned how. "No, Sir. I believe I will refrain.”

Kirk smiled. "You don’t know what you’re missing, Mr. Spock."

//I do, indeed, know what I’m missing,// Spock thought wryly to himself. //Water in my ears and eyes, and feeling soggy and uncomfortable afterward.//

For the first time Kirk seemed to notice Spock’s uniform. "Why don’t you pull that off? It must be hot. I’ve got some extra things you can use."

Spock raised an eyebrow. The Captain was quite aware that he, as·a Vulcan, was accustomed to higher temperatures, and that Starfleet uniforms were insulated to keep out heat or cold. Actually, he was more comfortable in them than the Captain was in just the cut-off pants.

Kirk shrugged at Spock’s puzzled expression. "Well, it looks hot anyway,” he explained illogically. He went to a chest and pulled out a pair of white cotton trousers similar to the ones he wore. “Here, put these on."

He tossed them to Spock who caught them doubtfully. He wanted to please the Captain, but just pants? And he always felt a little naked without his uniform, even if fully clothed.

Kirk didn’t wait for an answer. He unbuttoned his pants and kicked them off. Unselfconsciously naked, he made a clean dive into the water. He came up a few seconds later, several meters from the side of the boat, and began to swim in a brisk, strong style. Spock could see he was an excellent swimmer--almost as much at home in the water as he was on the bridge of the Enterprise.

Spock looked at the pants in his hands. Perhaps if he were not in uniform, it would not remind the Captain so much of the Enterprise and ultimately of Gary Mitchell. Making a decision, Spock quickly stripped off the uniform and slipped into the pants. They were a little large at the waist, but not uncomfortably so. They were also much longer than the pair Kirk was wearing, reaching almost to his ankle.

A while later Kirk caught the side of the boat, and climbed aboard, instructing Spock to move to the other side to counterbalance his weight. He shook the wet hair out of his eyes and grinned at Spock. "Glad to see you took my advice."

"I thought they were orders,” Spock remarked drily.

Kirk grinned a little wider. "Perhaps they were. I’ve gotten so used to it, it’s hard to tell the difference. He moved to the bow and returned a few moments later. "Hungry?"

Spock nodded. Kirk threw him a can and a can opener. Spock raised a familiar skeptical eyebrow as he caught them. “Quite primitive," he observed, inspecting the tin can with amusement.

Kirk laughed. "No galley on this ship, Mr. Spock. You have to make do."

Spock read the label. Asparagus? He flashed another look at Kirk, who shrugged. "I wasn’t expecting you, Mr. Spock. You were anticipating maybe Plomeek soup?"

Mildly surprised that Kirk had even heard of the dish, he shook his head. "This will be quite adequate, Captain."

"Then hurry up with the can opener. I’ve got a mouthwatering can of tuna just waiting. We can share the crackers."

The meal finished, Kirk sat back and sighed. "Sea air certainly gives you an appetite, doesn’t it?"

Spock disagreed strongly, but he didn’t reply. The canned asparagus had tasted like an especially obnoxious form of weed, but he didn’t want to complain. He was confident Kirk would have just been amused if he did.

Kirk looked at Spock curiously. "You’ve never spoken much of your home, Spock. I’ve never been to Vulcan. What’s it like?"

Spock hesitated. "It is very different from Earth.”

"I know. The climate is much hotter and the air is thinner."

"Yes. It is very dry. The seas are small and very shallow. The rain only comes once during the year. At that time it rains continually; storms of such intensity the winds seem to shake the very ground--" He broke off, slightly embarrassed by his florid imagery.

"Go on, please,” Kirk encouraged. "I’d like to hear."

"The water is conserved as much as possible even today. In ancient times the wells were the center of conflict. They meant life or death for those who possessed them. It was not until the Reform and the Teachings of Surak that my people came to realize that sharing was more logical than violence . It was the beginnings of our culture. Perhaps that is why it took us so much longer than Terrans to reach space. Vulcan is an old world, but for centuries we were involved in an inner search finding the depths of our own beings . . ." He trailed off.

"I know Vulcan only joined the Federation about thirty years ago," Kirk said.

"Thirty-two point four three solar years ago,” Spock corrected absently.

Kirk nodded. "Other than the Intrepid, there are few Vulcans in Starfleet."

"Starfleet is a military organization," Spock explained." Although Vulcan supports the Federation, many view Starfleet as a necessary evil, and are not sanguine about Vulcan’s involvement. Violence is distasteful to us. The Intrepid is a scientific vessel. They are never required to participate in conflicts. It was agreed when the ship was commissioned."

Kirk asked the question that had been in the back of his mind for six months. "Why did you join Starfleet?"

"It seemed logical. I am a scientist. This is the best opportunity for a scientist to study the unknown."

"Didn’t your family object?" Kirk regretted the question immediately when he saw the tightened jaw and the tense posture of his first officer.

"My father was not pleased with my choice--but it was my choice."

Kirk did not miss the painful hesitation in Spock’s voice.

It was time for a change of topic. He wouldn’t push. Spock would tell him what he wanted him to know in good time.

"I always wanted to be in Starfleet," Kirk said, stretching his legs out into a more comfortable position. "My dad was a spacer. He died when I was fourteen--in space. I guess I never got to know him really well, but he was something special. There was a look in his eyes of a man who has seen things he would have no way to describe to anyone else. I made up my mind right then that I wanted to see those things too." He smiled sheepishly. "Or maybe I just wanted to get out of Iowa. It’s not a very exciting place. I even ran away to the ocean when I was nine."

Spock noted the pensive expression was once again in Kirk’s eyes as he remembered.

"I stowed away on an aircar heading west. When I reached the coast I sat a whole day on the cliff by the sea; just watching it, feeling it’s power. I didn’t even get hungry ‘till that night." He laughed. "Did I ever get it when I got home!"

Spock repressed the urge to ask what "it" was. He had a fairly accurate idea anyway.

"I’ve loved the sea ever since. It was almost an obsession with me as a kid. I read every book I could lay my hands on about ships. Somewhere along the line it turned to space ships; starships in particular. Natural, I guess, with my dad a spacer. But I never forgot the sea. They are a lot alike, you know, the sea and space. It’s all the same thing really. Reaching out to find something new, something different. Growing, expanding Human knowledge. And both of them are mysterious, dangerous--strangely feminine in a way. Daring you to try to master them, and all the time you both know you can’t, not really. No one can."

There was a slight smile playing at the corners of Kirk’s mouth, and he still had the faraway glint in his eye. "‘I must go down to the sea again; to the lonely sea and the sky . . .’”

"John Mason.”

Kirk glanced up at Spock in surprise and delight. "You know it?"

Spock nodded "I am fond of Terran poetry. I’m not certain I ever understood it until now however."

"I know. It’s so something you have experience. ‘And all I need is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by.’ Well, the Enterprise is definitely a tall ship, Spock.” His eyes dropped. "Sometimes too tall."

Spock was determined not to let him fall back into the depression again. "‘I am the master of my fate, I am the Captain of my soul,’" Spock quoted softly.

Kirk’s gaze lifted to meet Spock’s in appreciation. "Indeed."

They both fell silent, but this time it was a contented, companionable silence. Both suddenly felt at peace with themselves and each other.

Spock wondered idly what another Vulcan would make of this situation. Here he was, stripped to the waist, basking in the sun like a pre-Reform Vulcan; speaking personal thoughts to a Human who should not have been able to understand--but did.

The afternoon wore on and they both found themselves dozing. When the wind began to rise again, Kirk sat up, rubbing the sleep and sun out of his eyes, and pulled up the anchor. He grinned cheerfully at Spock. "First mate, if you will hand in the jib, we might be able to make a little headway."

"Yes, Sir," Spock answered obligingly and followed orders.

The evening moved on uneventfully, as did the night, spent in quiet conversation on inconsequential things. But somehow it seemed to cement a bond between the two. The silences were often as companionable and mellow as the eager bursts of discussion over the merits of a Brahms waltz compared to classical jazz. Or warp drives and clipper ships.

Morning found them deep in a discussion of the Prime Directive with Spock maintaining that it was a poorly crafted and illusive law; that if it were to be honored correctly it would mean prohibiting landing parties altogether. Kirk insisting that there had to be come compromise, and there were instances when interference might be not only necessary, but the more honorable course.

They never did agree with the other’s point of view, but both were well pleased with the quickness and insight of the other. Both knew this was a debate that would continue for a very long time—and that somehow pleased them, too.

Spock was the first to notice the change in the atmosphere. “Captain I hear something. Thunder, I believe.”

Kirk looked around. The sky was slightly hazy "I don’t hear anything.”

"I assure, you my hearing is quite acute."

Several minutes later Kirk heard it, too. There were heavy clouds gathering on the horizon; advancing rapidly. "Damn. A squall. This ship . . ." He shook his head doubtfully. "Let’s take the sails down, Mr. Spock, but keep the jib up for control. I hope she holds together. In a way I wish we were farther from Altaya."

Spock looked at him questioningly as he assisted the Captain in pulling down the main sail.

"There are some dangerous reefs in these waters. It’s fairly safe to sail them in calm seas, if you know what you’re doing, but in a swell . . . I don’t think we’re more than six or seven hours out from Altaya, but it’s too far to make a run of it. We’ll just have to try to weather it out. And on this ship . . ."

He trailed off, and Spock soon saw what Kirk meant. The sea became choppy and the wind rose to strong gusts. The sky grew darker every minute. The boat began to toss restlessly. Kirk finally gave up on trying to hold the rudder and lashed it down with a rope. The rain came down in a drenching sheet.

For a long time it was a case of holding onto the nearest solid object to keep from sliding across the tipping deck. The waves began to crash over the boat. Lightning spattered across the blackened sky, and the thunder almost deafened them.

Spock heard a loud curse from Kirk as another wave hit the boat. It tipped crazily. He looked around for the Captain.

"Spock!" Kirk yelled over the torrent, "Jump!" and dove off the boat. Spock hesitated uncertainly, clinging to the mast. Jump? Into that? All his instincts rebelled against it. However the boat did not seem to be righting itself this time. The forty-five degree angle was rapidly advancing into a ninety degree. Another wave pushed it harder. Spock jumped.

He submerged in the water and came up coughing, spitting out salt water. Too late he saw the mast of the boat coming down over him. He dodged out of the way, but the water slowed his movements, and the mast caught his head a glancing blow. He went down again and came up stunned and coughing. He gasped for air, trying to regain his equilibrium. He felt strange and sluggish, listlessly fighting the waves that kept pushing him back under.

There was a loud crash, heard even over the wind and thunder, followed by a splintering sound. Another wave washed over him, filling his lungs with sea water. He forced himself to stay afloat, coughing and choking.

"Spock!"

The voice seemed to come from close by, but he was too weak to respond. He tried to clear his mind, disciplining his limbs to the task of fighting the sea. After a moment he found he was able to get his breath back and work with the rhythm of the waves--hold his breath as they swept over him; let it out and draw another quickly before the next wave. It was a losing battle, and he knew it. The sea was stronger.

A few seconds later he felt a hand on his arm, then a body bracing him, holding him up.

"You okay?" Kirk asked.

Spock coughed again. "Yes, Sir."

"It’s okay. This won’t last long."

And it didn’t. The wind began to die down and the rain stopped. The sea remained rough and choppy for a while, but it, too, began to quiet slowly.

Spock knew he was not a strong swimmer. He tried to pull away from Kirk, afraid he would pull him down, too. Kirk held fast to him.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Kirk asked harshly.

"I am not certain how long I can remain afloat. I see no logical reason for you to drown also."

"Don’t be a fool. Neither of us is going to drown. The ship cracked on a reef. There’s bound to be some pieces of her floating around. As soon as it gets light enough and the sea is calmer, we’ll find something."

Spock started to protest, but Kirk’s grip did not lessen, and Spock realized if he struggled to pull away he could drown both of them himself. Kirk would not let him go. Spock accepted the fact calmly, still determined to get away from Kirk if worse came to worse.

It seemed like an eternity later, but Kirk spotted piece of wreckage. "Do you think you can swim to it?" He asked anxiously.

Spock nodded. They made their way slowly to the debris; Kirk keeping a careful eye on the Vulcan, slowing his movements so Spock could keep up.

It turned out to be a piece of·the hull, split off and splintered. It was about six feet long and no more than three or four feet wide. Kirk slid cautiously on top and reached for Spock. It was a very precarious raft, being prone to tip, with water washing over it with their added weight. But it seemed to hold them.

Once they secured their grip (more or less), Kirk looked at Spock. It had grown steadily lighter now, and even a gleam of sun shot through the heavy clouds. Kirk saw the bruise on Spock’s temple with the trickle of green blood.

"You’re hurt.”

Spock touched the wound gingerly and glanced at the blood, on his fingers. "Apparently. However, I do not believe it is severe."

"What happened?" Kirk asked worriedly.

"The mast of the ship contacted with the temporal region of my cranium. I was briefly stunned by the impact."

"No wonder you were almost drowned when I found you. How did you ever stay afloat for that long?"

“I have no idea," Spock·said truthfully. "I am an embarrassingly weak swimmer. It must have been a survival instinct."

"Are you all right now?"

"I believe so." He glanced at Kirk with concern. "And you?”

Kirk waved him off. I’m fine. I wasn’t in any trouble. It just scared the shit out of me when I couldn’t find you. You almost drowned, Spock. It would have been my fault. I talked you into coming.

Spock looked at him steadily, recognizing the strained, pale expression on Kirk’s face. “As I recall, I insisted on joining you.”

"Not much of a Captain, am I?" Kirk said bitterly. "That’s another ship I lost and almost another officer."

"You did not lose the Enterprise," Spock stated firmly.

"I almost lost her!" Kirk almost shouted. "And I almost lost you like Gary. Only I killed Gary. I killed him. And now I can’t even handle a goddamn sailboat.” He shuddered and put his hands over his face, unable to control the helpless weakness he felt. "I’m sorry, Spock. I should never have asked you to come with me. Should have known I wasn’t competent enough to even--"

"Captain," Spock said harshly, feeling a sudden surge of irritation. "Captain Kirk! Stop this! You cannot continue to blame yourself for every act of nature and every unforeseeable occurrence in the universe. It is illogical.”

Spock reached out his hand and caught Kirk’s, pulling it from his face. Kirk looked at him dully.

"First," Spock enumerated, "you had already stated that the boat was badly designed. Its inability to withstand a storm cannot possibly be your fault. Second, my injury was caused by my hesitation in obeying your orders to jump. Third, you know Gary Mitchell’s death was something that could not have been foretold. You were following orders when you took the Enterprise through the barrier. From that point your responsibility was toward the safety of the Enterprise. YOU HAD TO MAKE A CHOICE. Hard as it was, you that choice. That’s why you are Captain, because you were able to make that choice. What happened to Gary, happened. It is over. There is nothing you can do about it--there was nothing you could have done to change it. Let it GO!"

Spock released his hold on Kirk’s arm and sat up, taking a deep breath.

"Fourth, if you persist in this useless and destructive self-recrimination, I shall be forced to obtain myself another raft."

Kirk stared at him for a moment. His stoic first officer stared back at him calmly. The last words began to sink in slowly. Kirk glanced around at the blank sea. He grinned ruefully. "Am I that unbearable, Spock?"

Spock answered him solidly, "Occasionally. When you choose to bring the weight of the universe down on your shoulders."

Kirk’s smile grew to a chuckle, then a laugh. Then he broke down, his sense of humor at himself coming to the surface, and really laughed. When he got himself under control, he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and said shakily, "Mr. Spock, you realize, of course, that there are times when your logic is unbearable."

"Logic is always acceptable."

Kirk went off into gales of laughter again. "And you’re . . . also a . . . rotten first . . . mate."

"That may well be," Spock replied with dignity, but there was a definite twinkle in his eye, "however, I informed you my experience was limited."

Kirk finally sobered. "Have I really been that bad?"

"Yes," Spock said simply.

Kirk shook his head ruefully. "It’s been hard to accept failure. Command came so easy to me until this. I guess I never truly expected to have to make a decision like that. I knew it was right, but that didn’t seem to help. Gary--" He stopped, still not ready to talk about it. For a long while neither spoke. Finally Kirk looked up. "Well, Mr. Spock, looks like we’re stuck. It will be several days before the current carries us near Altaya."

"Do you have a more accurate estimate?" Spock asked curiously.

Kirk considered it. "I know we can’t be too far away, but this isn’t a very strong current. I’d say at least three or four days anyway.”

"Then I suggest we wait."

“Wait?" Kirk said indignantly. "Whatever your water requirements, Mr. Spock, I’d be damned thirsty by then. There has to be a better solution. I’ll be damned if I’ll sit out here and cook in the sun for three days."

"Perhaps we could utilize those loose boards as paddles."

Kirk followed his gaze. "Good idea. I’ll go get them." He carefully slipped off the precarious raft and swam toward them. He had retrieved one and was heading for another when he cried out and sank. Before Spock could react he was back up and cursing. He grabbed the planks and swam back slowly.

"Captain, what happened?"

Kirk handed him the board and climbed up. "Damned coral."

Spock saw his foot bleeding profusely, gashed from the ankle to toe. He also saw, with relief, it wasn’t really serious. Spock tore a piece of cloth from his pant leg and bound it up.

"Those reefs must be all, over this area, " Kirk commented sourly. "No wonder that the boat cracked up. Either I screwed up on the course, or the charts weren’t reliable."

"I would think the latter," Spock said with assurance. "Your first post was as navigator, was it not?"

Kirk grinned. "Yes, it was, but space, not sea. So you’ve studied up on me, huh, Spock? Better to know your adversary?"

"Hardly," Spock replied easily, "but it is good to know your Captain."

"I’ve known times when it was the same thing."

"Not·in this case, I think--"

"Spock," Kirk broke him off. "We’ve got company."

Spock turned to see a large fin break the water and flow in a lazy circle around the raft.

"Shark," Kirk said grimly.

"Captain, that is a Terran species. This is not necessarily--"

"Spock, you know as well as I do what that thing is. Whether it is the Earth variety or not, it’s after the same thing. Us."

Their eyes met. "Possibly."

"Not possibly; probably. And we also know what drew it. My blood."

Spock didn’t answer. They both turned to watch the slow arch of the fin. It was very large.

"Ten meters, I would estimate," Spock answered Kirk’s unasked question.

"Terrific," Kirk said dryly. "So what do we do now?"

"Logically, there is nothing we can do. Perhaps it will go away."

But the ‘shark’ showed no indication of leaving. It had sensed blood in the shifting currents and it knew instinctively that it came from this area. It swept closer to the raft.

It’s last pass nudged the edge of Spock’s side of the raft and they were both tipped off. Kirk clung to the wood and pulled himself back up as rapidly as possible. He looked frantically for Spock. The raft had been swept back by the wash of the fish. Spock was several meters away. He spotted the raft as he came up and started to swim back toward it.

"Spock!" Kirk shouted as he saw the direction the ‘shark’ was taking; directly toward the awkwardly swimming Vulcan. Spock paused treading water, glancing back toward the approaching fin.

In panic, Kirk picked up one of the loose boards and slapped the water hard several times. Just as the ‘shark’ reached Spock, it swerved off toward the sound. Still, Spock went under. Kirk jerked up to his knees, rocking the raft. "Spock!"

The ‘shark’ had dived, and for a split second there was nothing breaking the surface of the water. Kirk held his breath, his heart beating painfully. No . . . no . . . no!

Spock surfaced, choking slightly. So did the ‘shark’. Without hesitation, Kirk dived off the raft and swam toward Spock. He reached him quickly.

"No, Jim, no!" Spock protested.

"Shut up.”

They both watched as the fin approached, then dove again. Kirk closed his eyes, clutching Spock, waiting for . . .

Nothing happened. He opened his eyes, met Spock’s raised eyebrow. Another long, long moment of waiting. Still nothing.

"Interesting," Spock observed calmly.

"Well," Kirk said shakily, "what are we waiting for?"

He helped Spock back to the raft and assisted him aboard. There was a bad cut in Spock’s leg, reaching from upper thigh to knee. It was bleeding heavily.

"It just brushed me," Spock explained. "Apparently it has an extremely rough exterior--perhaps a defensive stratagem."

"Quite effective," Kirk remarked, ripping off the pant leg and using it to bandage and stop the flow of blood.

"Indeed."

Kirk worked in silence for a few moments. "Do you have a theory on why it didn’t eat us?"

Spock looked puzzled. "The only hypothesis I can offer is that my blood was not compatible with its body chemistry. It seemed to veer off right after I began to bleed. And, since you were beside me, you were protected as well."

"Very useful, Mr. Spock. I now have a science officer whose blood can be used as a shark repellant.”

Spock’s dark eyes looked at him indignantly. Kirk laughed. He finished binding Spock’s leg and sat back.

"Captain, " Spock said stiffly, "it was a very ill-judged move on your part."

"What?"

"Leaping in the water. What did you expect to accomplish with such an illogical action?”

Kirk thought about it. "I don’t know. I just couldn’t sit here and watch you be eaten alive.”

"Most irrational. Unless your purpose was becoming an alternate target."

“Believe me, Mr. Spock, that was the last thing I wanted."

"Then why—It was completely irrational."

“I guess so. What would you have done?"

Spock had no answer. For a long time they sat without speaking, each immersed in their own thoughts.

Kirk was the first to speak, "I think this has been very good for me, Spock."

Spock looked at him questioningly.

"I, thought I needed, some time alone to think things through, but what I really needed was to face something with someone else. I guess it was beginning to feel a little too lonely at the top. Now I think I see that I never was really alone up there, was I? You’ve been there all along, sharing everything—responsibilities, guilts, doubts. Even if the buck still stops with me, you’ll be there backing me up, won’t you?"

Spock’s eyes dropped. This was what Piper had wanted, wasn’t it? For Kirk to confide in him, share his doubts and fears. So now what? How was he supposed to answer this openness? He had had no experience with this. He felt curiously naked.

Kirk was still waiting for an answer, his face very open and vulnerable. Then he asked a question that startled Spock. "You never liked Gary, did you?"

Spock wasn’t sure how to reply. "There was a clash of personalities. I thought him a quite competent navigator."

"Yes, but you didn’t like him."

"No,” Spock said reluctantly. "I regretted his death, as I would regret anyone’s unnecessary death--and I regretted your pain." He avoided Kirk’s eyes. "But I did not like him."

Kirk was grateful for Spock’s honesty, pleased that for once he was not concealing his true feelings behind his mask of logic. "I know. And I also know why. I wasn’t blind, Spock. I know how he treated you, and I know it must have hurt, though you would never admit it. I know he never did anything he could be called to account for--no overt disrespect for senior officers. Gary was too careful for that. But he wasn’t easy to be on the same ship with, was he?"

Once again Spock didn’t answer, pretending to be busy adjusting the bandage on his leg.

Kirk smiled sadly. "Oh, Spock, don’t you think I saw what Gary was? He was my best friend, yes but that didn’t make me blind to his faults. I don’t think I ever really liked him as a person. Is that hard to understand?"

Spock finally met his eyes uncertainly.

Kirk continued, "Maybe he was my friend out of force of habit. We had known each other a long time. Maybe it was because Gary was so much like me."

Spock started to protest. Gary Mitchell like James Kirk? Never! Egotistical, overbearing Mitchell? No.

Kirk stopped Spock before he could speak. "Gary was a user. He took people for what he could get out of them. I have no illusions about myself--I’ve done the same in my time or I would never have made captain of a starship. I’ve used a lot of people one way or another. I’ll probably use a lot more sooner or later. It comes easy like it did to Gary. I don’t like it, but I recognize it. It’s not an easy thing to accept about yourself. I’m not proud of it."

"No," Spock said, almost angrily, "Mitchell was nothing like you. He was cruel and he enjoyed it."

“We just had different goals, Spock. And, yes, maybe I have a bit more conscience than Gary had. I don’t like to hurt people. But I can if I have to. I know I can. Maybe that’s what scares me that I know I can do whatever I have to. Like killing Gary."

"You are not like him," Spock repeated with determination. "You are trying to justify to yourself why you had to kill him--or why you were able to--and it does not need justification."

"What was it Gary said?" Kirk commented in a sad voice, "Command and compassion are a fool’s mixture.”

"They are the only mixture that makes it possible to command,” Spock said harshly. Kirk looked at him in surprise. "Captain, I am not insensitive to the problems involved in commanding a starship. But one of the most important attributes happens to be a basic morality. That is something you have that Mitchell did not possess."

Kirk still stared at the Vulcan, amazed that comment came from him. "Maybe you’re right. It’s easy to fall into self-pity. Maybe I’m painting too black a picture of myself. It’s easy to be melodramatic about your faults. It’s easier to see yourself as a villain than as just an ordinarily fallible man trying to understand a painful occurrence. I guess everyone is far from black or white, just an infinite number of greys. Even Gary . . . even me." Kirk rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel some of the tension. He met Spock’s gaze with a touch of curiosity. “How do you see me, Spock? Black, white or grey?”

“I see you as my Captain and my friend—" He broke off, horrified at what he had almost admitted. How could he have let himself lapse into such an emotional term?

Kirk smiled, and felt the tension in his shoulders dissolve.

Spock. He was going to come to depend on him, he realized that now. Spock, the careful, controlled, logical Vulcan. Already he felt closer to him than he ever had to Gary. Spock’s fears and inhibitions were, in a strange, backward, opposite way, a. reflection of his own.

They complimented each other, fulfilled each other’s needs. Or they could, if Spock would let it happen.

Spock waited uneasily for Kirk to make some remark on his mortifying slip, but Kirk did not pursue it. Spock relaxed. He had been right about the Captain--he would not take advantage of an emotional fissure in his control. Spock wasn’t ready to go too far yet. His barriers had been too painstakingly constructed over the years to be easily released.

"Thank you, Spock," Kirk said simply, and tactfully let the subject drop. He stared out over the water meditatively, and gradually let his thoughts drift back to their present difficulties. He glanced at the loose boards without enthusiasm. He didn’t very much look forward to paddling this unsteady raft several kilometers to shore.

Spock seemed to catch his thought. "It is unfortunate that I left the communicator in my uniform," he mused.

"Yes,” Kirk agreed wistfully. "It was my fault for talking you into chang--" He broke off as he met his first officer’s ironically raised brow. He grinned. "Okay, Spock. It was your fault for forgetting it."

"I did not forget it, Captain," Spock corrected. "I merely did not foresee being unable to have access to my uniform."

"Ummm, well, I guess the sooner we start paddling, the sooner we’ll make it to Altaya. I--"

"Captain," Spock interrupted, "do you hear anything?"

Kirk shook his head, but listened a few more moments, until he, too, heard the hum of an engine. The skimmer past to the east of them, then apparently spotted them and came back for a closer look. It hovered over them for a moment then flew off in the direction of Altaya.

"It appears we are to be rescued, Captain."

"Thank goodness. I was beginning to recall another Terran poem, Spock. And it wasn’t helping a bit."

“What is that, Captain?"

Kirk grinned. "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner."

* * *

Much later that evening, back on the main island, Kirk was composing a rather difficult tape to Commodore Mendez when Spock returned from checking with the Starbase.

“How are repairs coming, Spock?”

"Excellently, Captain. Mr. Scott says the work should be completed before the week is out."

"Good. Anything else new?"

"We have been assigned a new ship surgeon. The orders just came in. His credentials are quite impressive."

“I’ll be rather sorry to see Piper go. He is a good man. Who’s his replacement?"

"A Dr. Leonard McCoy--"

Kirk jumped up in delight. "Bones!"

"I beg your pardon?”

Kirk laughed and hit his fist against the top of the desk with joyful energy. "I’ll bedamned! That old horse thief really got the transfer. I’d asked for him, but I never thought they’d let him get away from that research project. This is fantastic!"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back stiffly. "I take it you are acquainted with the Doctor?"

"You’d better believe it! Bones is the most cantankerous, stiff-necked--" He broke off finally noticing Spock’s formal expression. "He’s a friend, Spock you’ll like him. He’s also a damn good doctor.”

"Indeed," Spock said noncommittally. With a nickname like Bones, he did not have high hopes for their relationship.

Kirk, seeing Spock’s coldness, decided he should prepare the Vulcan for the irascible doctor. "He’s a little hard to get to know at first. Sometimes he can be a bit blunt, but . . .”

Spock was listening politely, but there was a closed look on his face. Inside he experienced a sinking feeling. So, another of Kirk’s "friends". No doubt in much the same vein as Mitchell. After the progress they had made toward understanding each other in the last couple of days, it was all for nothing. Kirk would have this “Bones", and he would be back on the outside again. Spock steeled himself. That was fine, that was how it should be. He was Vulcan. He did not need-

Spock put his thoughts off with an effort. "I suppose you will be returning to Starbase to await Dr. McCoy’s arrival?"

Kirk looked at him, a little puzzled at Spock’s sudden aloofness. “Why, no. He’ll be there when we get back.”

Spock’s eyes lifted quickly to meet Kirk s at sound of the "we”.

Kirk’s eyes twinkled. "We’ve still got almost a week of shore leave, Mr. Spock. How do you suggest we spend it, my Vulcan friend?"

Although Spock’s face remained impassive, something deep inside him twisted free at that one word "friend." He felt a surge of uncontrollable warmth toward Kirk and had to consciously suppress his urge to smile back at the Captain’s mischievous grin.

"We could always rent another sailboat, I suppose," Kirk suggested innocently.

Spock’s eyebrow shot up to his bang, but Kirk saw with glee the twitching of his lips as he repressed a smile.

"Please, Captain, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer to extricate all the salt water from my lungs I ingested on this sailing before I embark on another."


End file.
